


Mischief Managed

by touchedglitter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, New Girl
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchedglitter/pseuds/touchedglitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been two weeks since Jess showed up for what she thought was going to be her first day of work for the new school year and instead learned that it was her last day of work, maybe ever. But then she gets a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischief Managed

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in Season 2 of New Girl. Spoilers through S02E02, "Katie." It also refers extensively to Harry Potter canon, including Pottermore. So it pretty much spoils the whole Harry Potter series.
> 
> Thank you to my beta reader [Kyra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyra/pseuds/Kyra) and my friend Rebecca, who inspired Jess's assessment of which Hogwarts house Nick belongs in.

It’s been two weeks since Jess showed up for what she thought was going to be her first day of work for the new school year and instead learned that it was her last day of work, maybe ever. Her last day at W. E. Hearst Middle School, anyway. For the first couple of days, it felt like the 10 day break she had between summer school and the regular school year was just a bit longer. But she’s starting to think that the freedom that comes with letting your boobs out of boob jail, the ability to craft 24/7, and even her spicy casual affair with Sam aren’t enough to make her feel better about this situation anymore.

If she were teaching, now would be the time she really had a rapport with the kids. She always won them over by day 10, even the ones who didn’t appreciate her classroom expectations song on day 1. (The song usually went over pretty well with sixth graders, but that one year when she’d taught eighth grade and the kids were all too cool for it had been a real problem.) 

“Respectful, responsible, and kind!” She sings the refrain as she crochets a scarf for nobody in particular (it’s possible that “nobody in particular” is code for Nick). And her normal professional comfort movies, the ones she pulls out when she’s had a really bad day at work, like _Dead Poet’s Society_ or _Mr. Holland’s Opus_ or _Dangerous Minds_ or _School of Rock_ , well, all they do now is make her cry. (After their language arts teacher had made them watch _Dead Poet’s Society_ at the end of her first year of teaching, the students had all stood on their desks and ‘O! Captain My Captain!’d her. She’d worried for the next three months that she’d hit her peak as a teacher in year one. Fortunately, that hadn’t been the case.)

And she’s pretty well missed the window for any openings this year. They just don’t hire new teachers after the first couple of weeks unless they’re in dire straits. So things are about as crappy as they’ve been in a long time. Except for the great sex with Sam. That’s pretty amazing.

She’s comforting herself by watching an America’s Next Top Model marathon. It doesn’t really hold her attention, but she can sort of stare at it and zone out and forget that she’s now nothing more than a very sexy bum. Like, a hobo, not a British butt.

Which is why she doesn’t really pay attention when Nick comes in the door and says, “Jess, mail,” drifts by her, drops an envelope in her lap, and then goes to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal.

When the show gets to a commercial break, she looks down at the envelope. It’s made of a fine parchment paper, the kind of fancy stationery she herself goes nuts for. (When she tried to bring back letter writing and get her roommates on board by giving them all fancy stationery, the general consensus had been that it didn’t make sense in a world of texting. And, moreover, “If I want to tell you something, I just have to walk three steps, Jess,” if you’re Nick, and “I just type so much faster,” if you’re Schmidt, and “Writing makes my hand cramp,” if you’re Winston.)

She sets her crochet on the couch next to her and picks the envelope up, relishing its crisp texture. On the front is written in green calligraphy, 

MISS J. DAY.  
The Sofa,  
837 Traction Avenue APT. 4D,  
Los Angeles,  
CALIFORNIA  
USA

Running the pads of her fingers over the edge, she flips it over. There is a crest on the back - a shield divided into four parts with... is that a badger? And an eagle? Is this a - is this the Hogwarts crest? The envelope is sealed with red wax imprinted with the same crest. She gently slides a finger under the flap of the envelope and carefully pulls the wax up.

Inside she finds a letter written on parchment paper:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

Dear Miss Day,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Term begins on 1 September. Please arrive at the Travel Town Museum in Griffith Park at 11 am on that date to ensure your safe travel to Hogwarts.

Yours sincerely,

Pomona Sprout  
Deputy Headmistress

Jess gasps.

“Everything okay, Jess?” Nick asks from the kitchen, his mouth half full of cereal.

“Yeah,” she says, sliding the letter back in the envelope. “I just have to - in my room -” She picks up the crochet and carries it and the letter back to her room.

Magic isn’t real, so she doesn’t think the letter can possibly be real, either. Can it? There’s no such thing as Hogwarts. And they don’t have American teachers there. But maybe... She _is_ a really great teacher...

She finds her phone, sprawls on her stomach across her bed, and calls Cece.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” Cece asks. 

“Cece... Do you think magic is real?” Jess asks.

“That’s a weird question,” Cece replies.

“It’s just... I got this... this letter in the mail today, and - it’s from _Hogwarts_.” Jess whispers the school’s name with a combination of disbelief and reverence.

“What, like in Harry Potter? I’m pretty sure that’s not real,” Cece says. “Plus, you’re way too old to go there. Aren’t those kids, like, twelve?”

“Or eleven,” Jess adds, flipping the envelope over between her fingers like a coin or a playing card. “But this - well it was inviting me to be a teacher there. I don’t even know how you become a teacher at Hogwarts. I don’t even know if J. K. Rowling thought about how you become a teacher at Hogwarts. I just - it’s really weird. And it was addressed to me at The Sofa. You know, how Harry Potter’s was The Cupboard Under the Stairs?”

“Well, I would just ignore it. It’s probably a weird marketing ploy, or something,” Cece says.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jess replies, her voice smaller than it was a minute ago. “Thanks, Cece. Love you.” She hangs up the phone. She tosses the letter on her dresser, and heads back out to the couch to keep working on Nick’s - um, nobody in particular’s scarf.

===

The next morning, Jess is steeping her chamomile tea, the tea bag string draped across her finger as she dunks the bag in and out of the hot water, when Schmidt asks, “What movie are we watching tonight, Jess and gentlemen?”

“Isn’t it Jess’s turn to pick?” Winston asks, his mouth full of cereal.

“I thought we took away her turn,” Nick says. “She always picks crap like _Clueless_ and _10 Things I Hate About You_.” He takes a long slurp of coffee.

“You loved _Clueless_!” Jess lightly slaps him on his bicep.

“I didn’t love you explaining to me every second how it follows the plot of _Emma_ , though.” Nick flinches away from her. “Same with _10 Things_ and _Taming of the Shrew_.”

“Wait til you see _She’s the Man_!” Jess’s tea is probably vertical climbing wall steep now, so she drops the tea bag in the trash, twirling her hand afterwards in a little flourish.

“You still get your turn, Jess.” Schmidt slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. “But could you pick something a little more action oriented?”

“Hmmm.” Jess taps her chin with one finger. And then she remembers the letter. “How about _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_?”

“No,” Nick says, his hands going to his hood and pulling it down over his face. “Nononononono.”

“I think you mean _Harry Potter and the_ Philosopher’s _Stone_ , Jessica,” Schmidt corrects her.

“Here we go.” Jess can’t see Nick’s eyes anymore, only his turtle frown.

Winston points at Jess. “I’ve been meaning to see that.” 

“We’re not British, Schmidt.” Jess takes a slow sip of her tea. “What’s your problem with Harry Potter, Nick?” She punches him on the shoulder playfully. “What’d old lightning bolt scar ever do to you?”

Nick crosses his arms and hunches up his shoulders. “My problem isn’t with Harry Potter. It’s with Schmidt.” 

“What? Why?” She wonders how Schmidt is even a little related to Harry Potter. Maybe he’s actually a wizard. Why wouldn’t he tell her? But of course he couldn’t, it wouldn’t be safe.

“I don’t like to talk about it.” Over the past minute or two, Nick’s turtle face has gotten so intense that Jess thinks the grooves around his mouth might never go away.

“I think _Philosopher’s Stone_  is a fine choice.” Schmidt turns to leave for work, then turns back. “But Winston hasn’t read the book.” He runs to his room and returns holding a fancy looking trunk. Or it would be fancy looking, if it weren’t made out of cardboard, and if it didn’t say “Harry Potter” in bright yellow letters on the front. “Guard these with your life, Winston.” He checks his watch. “You have 11 hours to read the first one. Go.”

Winston laughs, then suddenly frowns. “Hey, this isn’t going to be like that crap with Boromir in _Lord of the Rings_ , right? I’m not gonna have anything from the later books spoiled by the first movie?”

Nick groans. “I hate you guys so much.”

===

“I wanted to elevate our movie night to a grander event, so I took the liberty of ordering  gourmet pizza.” Schmidt’s carrying two big pizza boxes when he gets home from work. He sets them down on the island. “Is everyone ready for our journey into the magical world of Joanne Rowling?”

“No,” Nick growls from his usual seat on the couch.

“Absolutely!” Sitting on one end of the couch, Jess throws the horns and sings something that, she hopes, sounds like the guitar solo from the _Wayne’s World_ theme.

“I want you to know that I got in trouble for reading at work.” Opposite Jess, Winston gives Schmidt a look of reproach, then smiles. “And it was _so_ worth it.”

Schmidt plates a slice of pizza for each of them and brings them over to the couch in two trips. Winston takes a bite but before he can even start to chew it, he spits it out. “What is _on_ this?”

“It’s an olive oil glaze with spinach, roasted red peppers, eggplant, caramelized onions and goat cheese,” Schmidt says, reaching for his wallet as he sits on the couch next to Nick.

“That’s gonna be a jar.” Winston takes the money from Schmidt’s outstretched hand and deposits it.

“SCHMIDT!” Nick yells. “I just wanted normal pizza. Cheese and meat, pizza as God and Nature intended it. If you want to get fancy, maybe you order meat lovers'." 

Jess snorts at this. "Heh. Meat lovers." When you spend all day with middle schoolers, you kind of get into their head space a little. Okay, a lot. But she hasn’t been spending all day with middle schoolers, and won’t be. Not anymore. Unless that teaching at Hogwarts thing pans out. 

“Why couldn’t you have just gotten Domino’s?” Nick’s mouth is half full of the pizza, in spite of his strong objections to it.

“Because I’m not a tasteless cretin,” Schmidt spits back, picking up the remote and turning on the Blu-Ray player.

"I'll _happily_ eat your fancy pizza, Schmidt." Her middle school brain struggles to turn that into an innuendo and fails. _In your end-o_ , Jess thinks, mentally high fiving herself.

“Just put the movie on.” Nick folds his arms across his chest.

“Try to stay awake this time, Nicholas.” Schmidt presses play.

"It's just so dark and quiet once they get past Fluffy. It makes me sleepy." Nick pushes his hood up and leans his head back.

"I know, buddy." Schmidt pats Nick's knee. "I know." 

===

Nick wakes up on the couch at the same time that Harry Potter wakes up on screen in one of the final scenes of the movie. Jess notices him blinking slowly, then sitting up, placing his elbows on his knees and his fists under his chin, as if that would convince Schmidt he had been awake this whole time.

“Ah, Ollivander’s. Good times.” Schmidt stretches as the credits roll. “Absurdly long lines, though.”

“Wait  a second.” Jess stands up from the couch. “You’re talking like you’ve actually been there.”

“I have. Ten and a quarter inches, very springy, willow, dragon heartstring core.” Jess hopes he’s referring to an actual Harry Potter wand here and not his... wand... but she’s not 100% certain.

“Was it fun picking it out? Wait, where’s Ollivander’s?” She starts thinking about that letter again. (Okay, she was thinking about it all through the movie. She was trying to decide which subject they would ask her to teach. Astronomy seems most likely, but maybe something else? She wonders if she’ll have to wear wizard robes instead of cute dresses. She wonders if Madam Pince the librarian is only grouchy because they make her wear wizard robes instead of cute dresses.)

“The wand chooses the wizard, Jessica. You know that. And Ollivander’s is in Orlando.” Schmidt goes to a shelf and delicately pulls a narrow box off of it. He opens the box and hands it to her.

“Orlando, Florida?” She looks in the box and finds a wand that at least _looks_ as high quality as any they used in the movie.

“Wait a minute, Schmidt.” Winston goes to the fridge, opens it, and pulls out a beer. Nick points at himself to signal that he wants one, too. Winston looks at Schmidt and Jess and they each shake their heads. “Are you telling me that when you went to Orlando for your ‘business trip’” - he tries to make air quotes with a bottle of beer in each hand, but instead it just looks like he’s shaking the bottles - “you were shopping for Harry Potter merchandise?”

“Here it comes.” Nick’s fully awake now and glowering. “Ode to Harry Potter Island.”

“It’s called The Wizarding World of Harry Potter, Nicholas. And it’s _glorious_.” Schmidt puts his hand out for Jess to return the wand to him but she’s waving it around in the air now, practicing her swish and flick. “Be more gentle, Jess. It’s all in the wrist.”

“Jar.” In whatever the three person version of stereo is.

“It’s at a park called Universal’s _Islands_ of Adventure, Schmidt. You got your Marvel Superhero Island, and your Dr. Seuss Island, your old timey cartoon island - it’s Harry Potter Goddamn Island.” Nick joins Winston in the kitchen and takes his beer.

“What’s it like, Schmidt?” Jess is a little disappointed that he hasn’t actually been to a real Ollivander’s, but she thinks this theme park sounds super fun. Maybe the letter was some kind of promotion Universal was doing for teachers.

“Stunning. Hogwarts Castle looms over the quaint shops of Hogsmeade, and drifts of snow cover all the roofs. But I would say gastronomy is where the park really shines. Shepherd’s pie, cornish pasties, pumpkin juice. And-” Here Schmidt clenches his arms and shoulders kind of like he did when he still had his penis cast and Jess would brush her hair in front of him (which weirded her out a little) - “the Butterbeer. Oh, God, the Butterbeer.” He snatches the wand back from her and puts it in its box.

Nick raises his bottle of decidedly not Butterbeer. “Now that’s one thing from the wizarding world I fully support.” 

===

The next morning, Jess wanders out of her room and finds Schmidt making a frittata (in a skillet, she notices) and Nick on the couch playing a video game.

“Where’s Winston?” She goes to the kitchen, fills the kettle with water and puts it on to boil.

Schmidt points to Winston’s room with his chin. (How do men point with their chins? Every time Jess tries to do it, she just looks like a bobblehead doll.) “He was up all night reading and he won’t come out.”

Jess walks to Winston’s door and knocks on it softly. “Winston? Can I come in?” She hears a soft whimper. She slowly turns the doorknob and pushes the door in. Winston is still fully dressed and lying on his bed, stomach down, facing the door. A stack of three books is on his left, Schmidt’s trunk-o’-Harry Potter on his right. She sees that _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ is closed in his hands. Winston looks up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

“Why, Jess?” His voice is sad and a little higher than usual. “He was so _nice_.”

She cocks her head to one side. “Cedric?” Winston nods slowly. Jess sits on the bed next to him and puts her hands on his shoulders. “He was just too good for this world.” She’s not sure what else to say. She doesn’t want to tell Winston that the death toll just rises exponentially from here on out, so she just hugs him quietly.

“I’m here for you, man.” Schmidt runs into the room, breathless. “Nick, watch the frittata!” he shouts.

“Nope.” Jess can hear the buttons of the video game controller clicking furiously. She lets go of Winston.

Schmidt hugs Winston tightly. “Get off me, man.” He pushes Schmidt off of him, blows his nose on his comforter and then reaches over to pull _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ out of the trunk. He takes a deep breath, opens the book slowly, and begins to read.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Jess gets up and waves her hand for Schmidt to follow. “I always liked Cedric Diggory, even after he became a vampire,” she says after she closes Winston’s door.

“Because he’s a Hufflepuff,” Schmidt says. “Just like you. And I feel the need to tell you that I don’t mean that as an insult.”

“Aw, Schmidt. You really think I’m a Hufflepuff? That’s my favorite house!” Jess sits down on the couch on Nick’s right side and watches him blow the heads off of some zombies.

“Of course you’re a Hufflepuff. As if you could be anything else.” Schmidt sits on Nick’s other side.

“What about Nick?” Jess puts her arm around Nick’s shoulders, but he shrugs away from her and scoots forward, concentrating fiercely on the game.

“I used to think Nicholas was a Slytherin, but now I’m not so sure.” Schmidt gets up to go check on the frittata.

Jess leans back to look at Nick better. “Nick? A Slytherin? No!”

“He went to law school, Jess. Automatic Slytherin bid.” He takes the skillet off of the burner and places it in the oven.

Jess points up, as though she were about to say something very profound.“But he _dropped out_  of law school. That has to count for something.”

“First time those words have ever been arranged in that order,” Nick mutters, then begins pushing one button on the controller with his thumb over and over again, shouting “NONONONONONONONO!” The screen goes red and says “You Are Dead.” He groans and throws the controller, narrowly missing the TV.

“I think Nick is a Gryffindor.” Jess nods forcefully. The kettle whistles and she gets up, going to the kitchen and taking it off the stove. “Like Neville - his bravery is hidden deep within him, but it’ll be there when he needs it.”

“I’m not a Slytherin _or_ a Gryffindor, because none of that crap is real.” Nick gets up and retrieves the controller from where it landed on the floor. “But,” he says, winking at Jess, “I’ll thank you for the comparison to Neville because the internet tells me the ladies find him _very sexy_.”

===

“Can I show you guys something?” Jess is hiding the Hogwarts letter behind her back. Schmidt is piping frosting onto cupcakes, and Nick’s lying on his back with his head in the cabinet under the sink. 

Winston is sitting at the kitchen island, slumped in defeat. Every six hours or so for the past couple of days they’ve heard heaving sobs from his room, preceded or followed (or both) by exclamations like “Sirius! No!” and “Dumbledoooooooooooooooore!” and “Hedwig! What did Hedwig ever do to anybody?” (Once he was into the second half of _Deathly Hallows_  it had just gotten to be too much and was a constant sobfest in there.)

“Well, I am an expert in both breast examinations and moles, so -” Schmidt puts down the bag of frosting, walks over and drops a couple of folded bills into the douchebag jar without anyone saying anything, and then resumes piping.

“Ew, Schmidt.” Jess wrinkles up her nose. “It’s just - I got this the other day.” She sets the letter down on the kitchen island in front of Winston. He lifts his head up and reads it, his lips moving soundlessly. His eyes widen and he holds it up in front of Schmidt.

After reading it, Schmidt drops the bag of frosting and hugs Jess tightly. “Take me with you! I’ll get a job there. I can be a chef. Those miraculous feasts have to come from _somewhere_!”

“What the hell are you screaming about?” Nick slides out from under the sink and stands up, taking the letter from Winston and reading it to himself. “Huh.” He sets it down in front of Jess.

“So... you think it’s real?” Jess blinks. She’s so relieved that she’s not the only one who entertains the possibility that Hogwarts might actually be a real place, somewhere in the moors of Scotland and not just in central Florida.

"I've always suspected." Schmidt returns to piping frosting. "I mean, respect to my girl J. K., but no one could craft that wondrous world from their own imagination." 

"I don't know." Jess makes her thinking face, all screwed up lips and furrowed eyebrows. "The imagination itself is pretty magical." 

"Hear me out, Jess. If the wizarding world wanted to make diplomatic efforts toward the Muggle society, wouldn't it be smart to introduce the idea first through a children's book series, to open our hearts and minds to magic before they reveal themselves? I theorize that the Ministry of Magic tasked J. K. Rowling with making these initial diplomatic efforts."

"Then they should get their money back, because what she gave them was thousands of pages of Gryffindor propaganda." Nick drops back to the floor and resumes working under the sink. "That’s a pretty biased telling. I'd like to hear Voldemort's side of the story." 

"Nick, don't say You-Know-Who's name!" Jess whispers. 

“It gives him power over us!” Winston shudders.

“The second wizarding war ended in 1998, so we're safe. Voldemort's dead." Schmidt finishes up the last cupcake and starts to clean up.

"I bet that's what everyone thought after the first wizarding war.” Jess pokes him on the shoulder as she says “first” and “wizarding” and “war.”

“It’s all imaginary.” Nick’s voice floats out from the cabinet. “That letter is a scam, from a pyramid scheme or a fancy stationery shop or a sexual predator.”

"I kind of want to go and find out," Jess says. "It says to go to the Travel Town Museum in Griffith Park on Saturday at 11 am. That’s probably safe, right?" 

"We should go with you. To protect you if anything goes down." Schmidt hits his chest with his fist twice. 

"To protect me? How would you do that, exactly?"Jess blinks at him. 

"Jess, don't - " Nick warns her, but it's too late. 

Schmidt drops to the floor, does a combat roll, and runs up the wall, shouting, "Parkour!" 

"I don't know if Parkour is allowed in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Schmidt." Jess thinks for a minute, then nods. "It’s settled. We’re all going.” She spins around and starts toward her room. “Bettah wuhk on yoh Brit-ish accents, mates!”

===

It’s the morning of September 1st and Jess has assembled the guys in her room to help her pick out an outfit.

“I still don’t get why we’re the ones helping you with this.” Nick is flipping through a magazine he found on Jess’s nightstand.

“I told you,” Jess begins as she pulls a sundress with rainbow-colored polka dots out of her closet, “Cece isn’t available.”

“Shouldn’t they have sent you a supply list that told you what to wear?” Schmidt asks, a replica of the Sorting Hat from the movies precariously perched on his head. “You’re just going to have to wear plain work robes or similar anyway. What does it matter if the dress under them is cute or hideous?”

“I didn’t get a supply list,” Jess said. “It must be different for teachers.”

“Did you know that Professor McGonagall almost married a Muggle?” Winston has Schmidt’s laptop open. Ever since he finished reading all of the books, he’s been spending all of his time on Pottermore. He registered with five different email addresses because he kept getting sorted into houses he didn’t want. (Slytherin twice, Hufflepuff once, and Ravenclaw once. Once he got Gryffindor, he stuck with that account.)

“I did _not_ know that. Thank you, Winston.” Jess tosses the polka dotted dress at the bed, where it lands gracefully on Nick’s head. He pushes it off of his head. “What about this one?” She holds up a sassy blue number with giraffes printed all over it.

“That isn’t the most ridiculous dress I’ve ever seen.” Schmidt replies. “But it might be in the top three.” He gently picks the polka dotted dress up and drapes it over Jess’s desk chair. “Why don’t you go with this one? Polka dots are classic Jess, rainbows are vaguely magical, and since it’s a sundress it shouldn’t make you too hot under your robes.”

“All good points. I’ll wear that one,” Jess agrees.

“Thank goodness _that’s_ settled,” Nick mumbles.

“Now,” Jess adds, “what about shoes?”

===

It’s 10:59 am when Schmidt pulls the car into the Travel Town parking lot. They would have gotten there early (Jess likes to be everywhere fifteen minutes early, at least) but there was a traffic jam on the Freeway (but then, when isn’t there?).

Jess opens her door and dashes out of the car. There are a lot of families at the museum today. And a lot of them have middle school aged kids. And a lot of the kids are wearing wizard robes.

Then she realizes she recognizes some of the kids. Most of the kids? _All_ of the kids.

She kind of wants to gather them all up and hug them, but they’re getting to that age when hugging your teacher (former teacher) is kind of awkward. (There’s that sixth grade/eighth grade dividing line again.) And there are too many of them for her to start calling out all of their names to say hello. Plus, she wouldn’t want to embarrass them in front of their friends and family.

“Guys... this is weird...” None of the guys seem to notice her observation. She walks toward the museum entrance. 

“This way, Jess.” Schmidt grabs her arm and pulls her toward the locomotives area. Nick and Winston follow close behind, suddenly very quiet after an impassioned debate in the car over whether the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy is a good or bad thing. (Nick says bad - “Imagine what we could accomplish if we combined magic with technology!” but Winston says good - “People would grab wizards and put them in cages and make them perform tricks on demand. It’s no way to live, Nick.”) For somebody who objected to watching _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ and who insists that you can’t belong in a Hogwarts house since they’re not real, Nick sure does know a lot about Harry Potter.

A shiny black locomotive with red, yellow and green trim catches Jess’s eye. She freezes. “Schmidt. Is that the Hogwarts Express?”

“Let’s go find out.” The four of them approach a conductor standing next to the locomotive.

“Ticket?” He holds out his hand.

“Oh. I... I don’t have a ticket,” Jess stammers. “I didn’t realize these trains could go anywhere. I thought it was just a museum.”

“Letter!” Schmidt elbows her, coughing. 

“My letter!” Jess opens her purse and digs out the Hogwarts letter and hands it to the conductor. She fully expects him to read it and laugh hysterically at her before calling a hospital and having her committed.

Instead, he reads it quietly, nods, makes eye contact with Schmidt, and says, “You’ll need to go to Pennyslvania Dining Car #4418.” He points the way. Schmidt gets out his phone and sends a text. He looks like he’s trying to be sneaky. He fails miserably.

“Hey, Jess,” Nick says. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get to Hogwarts?” Why is he playing along all of a sudden?

“I don’t know... I guess maybe find my classroom? I mean, they probably have some teacher workdays, right? We need time to prepare before the students get there.” Jess is having trouble conceiving of what life will be like as a teacher at a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but she figures some things can’t be that different. Respect the students (10 points from Slytherin for not doing that, Professor Snape), show them you care (something she feels like Professor Dumbledore established pretty early on - although he didn’t pay all of the kids as much attention as he paid Harry, which might be problematic), and get them excited about learning (Lupin gets teacher of the year for that one).

“You are about to go to the most magical place on Earth, and you’re worried about where your classroom is?” Winston’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Don’t you want to see if you can catch a glimpse of the giant squid or something?”

“Well, there are all those moving staircases, so...” Jess trails off.

“She’s a good teacher, man,” Nick punches Winston lightly on the arm. “She puts the kids first. I wish I’d had a teacher like that. Ever.”

“Mr. Burton in seventh grade, Mrs. Johnson in eleventh grade -” Winston starts counting his good teachers off on his fingers.

“They liked you because you were an athlete, Winston.” Nick looks down at his feet. Jess notices that Schmidt has gotten _way_  ahead of them. Way.

“This was a diversion!” Jess breaks out in a run after Schmidt. “You guys were diverting me! Schmidt! Schmidt! Wait!” She hears Nick and Winston start running to keep up with her. 

As she catches up to Schmidt, she hears a loud, “EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” from the dining car. It sounds like... Cece?

“Here we are.” Schmidt gestures to the door of the car. “Since you’re the one with the invitation, Jess, why don’t you go first? We’ll be right behind you to make sure it’s safe.”

“Okay.” Jess takes a deep breath. _Listen, Tiger. You are either about to embark on a magical journey or be the most embarrassed you’ve ever been in your entire life. Whichever way it goes, you’re probably not going to die from it. So let’s do this._

She climbs into the car and turns to look along its length. Kids are seated on either side of several banquet tables, all of which have amazing looking food on them. The windows have been blocked with dark fabric and moving stars are projected on the ceiling. She notices the familiar strains of the opening theme from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ playing, and suppresses the impulse to sing along. (She’s a great orchestra, though. She’s sure John Williams would be impressed by her ability to imitate all of the instruments at once.)

“SURPRISE!” all of the kids shout at in unison. At the opposite end of the car from her is Cece, wearing a witch hat, smiling broadly and standing under a banner that says, “WE LOVE YOU MISS DAY.” Several signatures are scrawled all over the banner.

She feels a warm hand on the small of her back and turns to see Nick standing behind her, Schmidt and Winston right next to him. They’re all smiling bigger than she’s ever seen them smile before.

She starts to cry.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. This is so beautiful.” She wipes tears off of her cheeks and turns back to the kids and Cece.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” The kids pound their fists on the table. She stares at them all in amazement. So the whole thing was a hoax, kind of. But the most beautiful kind of hoax. And how did they pull all of this off? So many of her students... And such beautiful decorations... And such amazing food...

“I can’t... This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you. Thank all of you. That’s all I’ve got.” She pulls out a chair at the head of the table closest to her and sits down, her head spinning.

“Jess,” Schmidt whispers, holding a frosty mug with a golden fizzy liquid in it and a head of foam that looks vaguely marshmallowy out to her. “Try this.”

She takes a sip and closes her eyes. It is exactly what she has always imagined Butterbeer would taste like.

“The park recipe is a closely guarded trade secret,” Schmidt says as he pulls up a chair and sits next to her, “but I did some research and learned that the whole thing is dairy free. I think it’s the imitation butter flavoring that really makes it.” Nick grabs a chair and sits on her other side.

“It’s amazing, Schmidt.” Jess is still so overwhelmed, she can barely form complete sentences. Cece crosses the train car and gives her a big hug from behind. “Whose idea was this?” Jess looks up at Cece.

Cece and Schmidt’s eyes meet. “Well, we all kind of came up with it together,” Schmidt begins.

“It was Nick’s,” Winston says, putting his hand on the back of Nick’s chair. “Nick’s idea.”

Jess puts her hand to her chest. “Nick! This is so sweet!”

“I didn’t really organize it or anything, I just came up with the idea. I was sick of you moping around all the time, is all,” he says, but the sparkle in his eyes indicates otherwise.

“Well, now you’ve got me crying. I’m not sure it’s an improvement.” Jess sniffles and laughs at the same time. “Wait a minute. Nick, you can’t tell a lie. You sweat like crazy. How have you kept up this charade this whole time?”

He pulls up the hem of his henley shirt and reveals another shirt underneath. “Schmidt got me some kinda fancy undershirt that takes my sweat away!”

“It’s moisture-wicking COOLMAX fabric,” Schmidt corrects him. 

“But you seemed so genuinely angry about the whole thing!” Jess is starving by this point, so she grabs a small pastry off of a plate near her and takes a bite of it. It tastes like pumpkin pie mixed with heaven.

“That part wasn’t a lie,” Schmidt says. “I went to Orlando without Nicholas. I knew he wanted to go, but the time I was able to get off of work was at the same time as he had to go to his grandma’s funeral. So I didn’t tell him I was going. But then when I got back, I couldn’t keep it to myself.”

“And this clown kept bragging to me about what a great time he had, and insisting I should go, if I have the means. I believe he referred to it as ‘so choice.’” Nick scratches the back of his head. “I still haven’t forgiven the jerk. He did bring me a chocolate frog, though. I got a Rowena Ravenclaw card.”

“So you’re a secret Harry Potter enthusiast?” Jess hugs Nick. “One of us! Schmidt, these pastries are amazing.”

“They’re pumpkin pasties.” He picks one up and nibbles on it.

“What about you, Winston? Was the whole I-haven’t-read-Harry-Potter thing an act?” Jess asks him.

“No, that was all for real,” he tells her.

“Even the crying?” She tilts her head to one side a bit, examining him intensely.

“Even the crying.” Winston sighs.

“Thank you guys. So much.” Jess stands up, pushing her chair back from the table. “And now, I need to catch up with my kids. I’m not gonna see them anymore, probably.” She drags her fingertips across her cheeks, trying to dry them off. “But I’m gonna be okay.”

She walks over to the pair of students closest to her and crouches between them. “Hey, Jaime. Hey, Allie.” She points to a big button pinned to Allie’s robe that says “D. A.” on it. “I like your Dumbledore’s Army pin.”

“Miss Parekh gave it to me,” Allie tells her. “The D. A. stands for Day’s Army.” 

Jess looks around the train car. Kids are slurping down butterbeer, sharing how their summers are going, and nibbling on pumpkin pasties. Cece and Schmidt are fighting over who worked harder on planning this whole thing. Winston and Nick are debating whether Dumbledore is devious (“He knew only Harry could stop Voldemort, Winston!”) or incompetent (“He repeatedly put the lives of children in significant danger. Children, Nick!”).

She might not have a job, but she has a kickass army.

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a commentary track for this fic [on my tumblr](http://touchedglitter.tumblr.com/post/56728746230/mischief-managed-commentary-track). It features two butterbeer recipes, links to Jess's dresses, and more.


End file.
